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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22441969">someday, this pain will be useful to you</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account'>orphan_account</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>piece by piece, rubble to rubble [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The West Wing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Gun Violence, Hurt/Comfort, In the Shadow of Two Gunmen, Rosslyn, and voila out came this fic, i rewatched it and thought hm. This needs more gut wrenching pain</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-01-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-01-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 12:08:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,209</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22441969</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Donna wonders how close the bullet got to his heart. How scared he was, how much pain he was in. </p><p>alternatively titled: How Donna takes care of Josh, and how Josh takes care of Donna.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Josh Lyman/Donna Moss</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>piece by piece, rubble to rubble [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1644367</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>159</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>someday, this pain will be useful to you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Donna is wondering, mostly, what his funeral will be like. Will she have to speak?  </p><p>What will it be like to walk into the office without him there? </p><p>Can she even do it? </p><p> </p><p>“Donna, stop scratching.” The First Lady pulls her hand from her neck, and Donna realizes she has blood under her fingertips, she must have scratched it raw.</p><p>“Sorry,” Her voice shakes. She hasn’t spoken in several hours “Sorry, I-” </p><p>“It’s alright.” Mrs. Bartlet says gently. </p><p> </p><p>But it isn't. Nothing about this is okay. </p><p> </p><p>Time passes. CJ comes in and out. She looks pale and shaken and Donna saw some dried blood on her scalp when she bent down to hug her. Toby sits with his head in his hands, and Sam paces, and paces, and paces. Mrs. Bartlet leaves to see her husband. </p><p> </p><p>Donna wonders how close that bullet got to his heart. How scared he must have been, how much pain he felt. </p><p> </p><p>More time passes, and it seems Donna loses what little control she had over her thoughts. Her mind is just filled with a static that won’t dissipate no matter what she does, and an anxious knot in her stomach that makes it impossible to even consider eating or drinking. </p><p> </p><p>Every time the door opens, her stomach jolts, and she even runs to the bathroom to dry-heave into the toilet at one, indiscernible point. Her dry eyes water, and she spends a solid minute staring at her face in the mirror. She comes back to the room, eyes terribly red and puffy, wiping at her mouth, and Toby gets up and hugs her, before they both sit back down in silence. </p><p> </p><p>It becomes so bad, that she stops wanting the door to open, preferring to exist in this terrible purgatory. If there is no news about him, there can be no bad news about him. She doesn’t have to confirm that everything she’s been thinking will be reality. </p><p> </p><p>But then the door opens again, and it’s a doctor in a scrub cap, and Donna feels as if she’s made of lead. He opens his mouth. She’s going to throw up. </p><p> </p><p>“He’s out of surgery. We can’t say he’s totally without risk now, but the worst has passed. We’ll come get you one at a time when we can to see him.” </p><p> </p><p> CJ sags with relief, and Sam shakes the doctor’s hand. Donna is still glued to her seat. She slinks down, farther and farther, until her hands are covering her face, and hopefully, covering the waterfalls now coming out of her eyes. </p><p>
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</p><p>She’s seen him in many less-than-optimal states. Totally hungover (yes, she DID know that coffee was cold. He deserved it.). Snotty and sick with a respiratory flu, and yet still in his office, and still, somehow, mustering the energy to yell for her instead of using his intercom like a normal person. Going on 48 hours without leaving the White House, hair mussed and clothes wrinkled. </p><p> </p><p>It’s still a shock. She still has to swallow the enormous lump in her throat, force herself to propel forward. </p><p> </p><p>A blanket loosely hangs over his waist, and he’s otherwise totally unclothed. Not that she can see anything- tubes and wires protrude from what looks like every available square inch of skin. She keeps her eyes trained just upwards of bandages wrapped around his chest, where she knows underneath there’s surgical incisions and shattered ribs and lungs that are only recently inflated. His face only looks slightly better, entirely devoid of any color. </p><p> </p><p>Leo gets up as Donna walks in.</p><p>“The president just left.” He says quietly. </p><p>Donna nods. </p><p>‘Has he-”<br/>‘Here and there, for a few seconds.” </p><p>“Okay.” Donna can’t meet Leo’s eyes. She crosses her arms tightly and tries not to cry again. </p><p>They stand there for a few seconds, silent, and then Leo pats her shoulder, and leaves the room. </p><p> </p><p>Then it’s just her, Josh, the nurse sitting on the other side of the bed silently, and the beeping of the many machines. She sits next to him. He doesn’t stir. So she takes his hand. Maybe just to remind herself that’s he’s really alive, but he still doesn’t stir. </p><p> </p><p>They sit. No one comes to get Donna, and she definitely isn’t leaving unless she’s kicked out. About twenty minutes later, his eyes flutter open and close. </p><p> </p><p>She’s on the edge of her seat in an instant. </p><p>“Josh?” She breathes.</p><p>He flutters his eyes open again, and Donna can see that there’s tears in his eyes, swollen, and Donna notices that there’s a cut under his eye. Maybe it got ripped from surgery. Donna knows they taped his eyes shut during surgery. </p><p>He mumbles something, and blinks, and tears fall down his cheek. </p><p>“Josh,” Donna thumbs the tears away, and finds that she can’t make herself move her hand from his jaw. But they’re alone, and Donna thinks maybe this room, right here, at this moment, is a terrible time to try and segregate her emotions. So she keeps her hand on his jaw, and he stares blearily at her, and Donna desperately tries to get herself to understand that he’s okay, he’s still alive, his heart, so close to being shredded by a bullet, is still beating. </p><p> </p><p>Josh mumbles something again, and Donna roughly wipes her face and leans in. </p><p>“Josh, I can’t hear you-“ </p><p>Josh tries again, and it seems like maybe his mouth isn’t moving the way he wants it to.</p><p>“W-why..” he mumbles, garbled. “Why are you crying?” </p><p> </p><p>His hand, down at his side, with pulse-ox strapped to it and IVs taped down, twitches.</p><p> </p><p>Donna laughs wetly. She wants to sob with the terror of it all. </p><p>“Because you were hurt, and I was scared.” </p><p> </p><p>Josh clearly isn’t comprehending anything she’s saying, probably can’t comprehend anything other than that he’s in pain and most definitely high off the residual anesthesia. He looks at her, his eyes still watering, and he just looks confused, and scared, and about 30 years younger. </p><p>“Just go back to sleep, Josh. It’s okay, you’re just tired.” </p><p>She gently cards her fingers through his hair, tries to soothe him back to sleep.</p><p> </p><p>He seems to understand this better, so he flutters his eyes shut, and he’s out within a few seconds. </p><p> </p><p>“Donna.”</p><p> </p><p>Donna whips around, and finds C.J. standing in the doorway. </p><p> </p><p>“CJ-“ </p><p> </p><p>“It’s okay, Donna.” CJ’s eyes are soft. Donna doesn’t know much she saw, how much she thinks was inappropriate. She can’t bring herself to care very much. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m just…” Donna trails off, when she sees how CJ is hugging herself, staring at Josh in the bed like she’s seen her baby brother shot. Which she has. And Donna realizes, obviously, how could she be so stupid, that she isn’t the only person in the world who loves Josh. </p><p> </p><p>Maybe they love him in different ways, but they love him nonetheless. </p><p> </p><p>“Come sit with him.” Donna says softly. She squeezes his hand, once more, reminds herself that he still has a pulse, then forces herself to let go. “He was up for a moment, he might wake up for you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay,” CJ says thickly. She sits down next to him, and she leans forward onto the bed. Donna can see she’s crying, but pretends not to. </p><p> </p><p>“I’ll, uh, just be a minute.” CJ says. “I’ll come get you to come back when I leave.” </p><p>“Thanks,” Donna says. </p><p> </p><p>When she turns back at the doorway, CJ has her hand in Josh’s, and she’s leaned over him, and Donna knows he’s gonna be okay.</p><p> </p><hr/><p>The night Josh comes home from the hospital, Donna doesn’t mean to stay. </p><p> </p><p>Honest. </p><p> </p><p>She reheats one of the many dinners Mrs Lyman has left in the freezer for Josh, forces him to have a few bites, counts out the pills he needs to take, and makes sure he’s in bed. </p><p> </p><p>But as she’s taping his medication chart to the fridge and the name and number of the nurse on call next to the phone, she hears something. </p><p> </p><p>She hears Josh scream. </p><p> </p><p>She’s heard him scream before- in anger, in triumph- but never in pain. </p><p> </p><p>Never in fear. </p><p> </p><p>Donna feels like all blood has been drained from her body. She drops the pen she’s holding and runs, sprints, to his bedroom. </p><p> </p><p>He’s asleep. </p><p>Flat on his back, sweat beading on his forehead. He’s gripping the sheets. </p><p>“Help, HELP!” He screams again, and Donna thinks perhaps she can’t breathe. </p><p>She drops to her knees and puts a hand on his face, another on his chest. </p><p>“Josh, Josh, you’re alright, you’re safe-“ </p><p>“Please,” he begs, and Donna can see he’s crying again. “Please, I’m gonna die,” </p><p>“Josh-!” She shakes him, lightly, too aware of the stitching underneath his t-shirt. “Wake up, you’re safe, you’re in your apartment,”</p><p> </p><p>He cracks his eyes open, but it takes Donna less than a second to realize he’s not there, not really.</p><p>“Donna,” his voice cracks. </p><p>“Yes, yes it’s me.” </p><p>“Donna, the sirens-“ </p><p>“There aren’t any sirens, Josh, you’re home, you’re okay-“ </p><p>“It <em> hurts.” </em>Josh interrupts her, and Donna falls silent. His voice cracked, and he’s well and truly crying now, grappling at his chest like if he can just get the bullet out, stop the bleeding, he’ll stop hurting. “It hurts, it hurts,” </p><p> </p><p>“Josh..” Donna knows she’s crying too, it comes so easily these days, and she sits on the bed, and she firmly puts a hand on his chest, still running the other through his hair. “You’re okay. I’m right here, I know it hurts, but you’re alright, and you’re home.” </p><p>Josh quiets a little under her touch. He rests his hand on hers, and looks up at her, heavy-lidded.</p><p>“Home?” He slurs.</p><p>“Home.” </p><p>“Oh.” </p><p> </p><p>His eyes close all the way, and Donna gets up to move, until he’s reaching for her again. </p><p>“Donna, stay.” He says, mostly asleep. </p><p> </p><p>What’s left of her resolve, her professionalism, crumbles entirely. She can’t leave. She won’t. </p><p> </p><p>She kicks off her shoes, pulls off her jacket and climbs onto the bed next to him. He won’t let go of her, and he falls asleep like that. </p><p> </p><p>Donna wakes up to Josh snoring soundly next to her. Her arm is wrapped around him and she’s curled into his side. She’s entirely confused for a second, blinking against the morning sun bathing the room in a light gold, and then remembers the night before. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh, fuck,” she whispers. </p><p> </p><p>If the nurse walked in right now, if CJ comes by to drop off those pajamas she’s been talking about, they’re screwed. And not in a fun way. </p><p> </p><p>Luckily, Josh is totally knocked out. </p><p> </p><p>She carefully pulls her arm out, pulling his shirt back down when it rides up, and slowly gets off the bed. She stands in the doorway for a moment, just staring, and then goes to the kitchen to make breakfast. </p><p> </p><p>Josh stumbles out as she’s buttering up the toast. </p><p> </p><p>“Donna?” He says, rubbing his eyes blearily. “What’re you still doing here?” </p><p> </p><p>She stops mid-butter, and realizes, oh you idiot, of course he doesn’t remember. He was totally doped up. </p><p> </p><p>“You were in some pain last night, I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” She says. </p><p> </p><p>Josh seems to consider this. An odd look passes his face, and he opens his mouth, but shuts it just as quickly and shuffles to the table. </p><p>“Okay.” He says. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” </p><p>She shrugs. </p><p>“I’ll go in once your nurse gets here.” </p><p>“Okay.” </p><p> </p><p>She gets him his morning pills, makes sure he takes them, and then pours herself a cup of coffee. He manages to stay vertical for all of fifteen minutes, which is a considerable accomplishment, as some of his sternum is now artificial. </p><p> </p><p>So she helps him move to the couch, switches on the news, and gets ready in his bathroom. </p><p> </p><p>It’s oddly domestic, she decides, as she uses his mouthwash and brushes her hair with his comb. She can hear him snore slightly as she pulls on her sweater, and then hears him greet the nurse as she comes in. </p><p> </p><p>“Okay, I’m gonna go.” She says, putting on her earrings. “I’ll be back at lunch. You want soup?” </p><p>“Soup’s good.” He agrees. The covers are pulled up to his chin and his hair is mussed. </p><p> </p><p>She puts on her jacket, and is at the door when she hears,</p><p>“Donna, wait-“ </p><p> </p><p>Josh is struggling to sit up. She puts down her purse and rushes over, helping him come to a sitting position. </p><p>“Why can’t you wait for the nurse?” She asks him. </p><p>“Because,” He says, “I had to do this.” </p><p>He pulls her down, and kisses her forehead. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh,” Donna says, dumbly. </p><p> </p><p>“Thank you for taking care of me.” He says. His voice is oddly soft, and she feels a knot form in her stomach. She ignores it in favor of riding this wave of authenticity as far as it will go. </p><p> </p><p>“Always, Josh.” </p><p> </p><p>“Okay.” He says. “I’ll see you at lunch.” </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” she agrees. “Lunch.” </p><p> </p><p>And she puts on her jacket and her purse, and walks back to the door. When she turns, Josh is nestled back under the covers, watching the news. But she swears she sees a half-smile on his lips. </p><p>
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